


Hands Up

by Redoqs



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redoqs/pseuds/Redoqs
Summary: How much trouble can you get in for harboring a criminal?
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

Pamela had been questioning how she managed to keep her sanity for as long as she did when she burst through the doors of the police station.

“Where’s Bruce?” Pam demanded to anyone within earshot.

It was early in the morning so the station wasn’t packed with it’s usual occupants at this time. However, there were still a few people around that Pam didn’t bother to remember the names of, all of them looking as if they would rather be anywhere but here at the moment. Of the four people who looked at her, none of them felt the need to provide an answer.

_ Why do I even bother? _

A groan on her left took Pam’s attention. Selina Kyle, a name that Pam did remember (unfortunately or not, the jury was still out on that one), rubbed her eyes from her place at a desk, booted feet propped up on the surface. Her head was hanging from the back of the chair and her short black hair was wilder than usual, as if she had just rolled out of bed and neglected to put a comb through it. The redness in her eyes indicated that she probably didn’t sleep well the night before. That, and the fact that she seemed to be on her fourth cup of coffee, if the three empty cups were anything to go by, even though it was only seven in the morning. Or was it coffee? Knowing Selina it probably wasn’t. It didn’t matter, anyway. If Pam wasn’t already on a mission she would have questioned what Selina was doing there and why so early.

“Would you mind turning down the volume?” Selina’s voice was raspier than usual, the irritation evident. “It’s literally 8 in the morning.”

Pamela rolled her eyes and lowered her voice very slightly but making sure the intensity remained. “It’s seven. Where’s Bruce?”

Selina shut her eyes. “Why?”

“So I can fuck him.” Pam stated. “I need to speak to him.”

Even though her eyes were closed, Pamela knew she was rolling them . “Same place he’s always in.”

In his office. Of course. Pamela knew that but she wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to voice her annoyance. She had a reputation to maintain, after all. However, before she could dramatically burst into Bruce’s office, the man in question emerged from behind the doors.

“Good morning, Pamela.” Bruce Wayne greeted, his own mug of coffee in hand. His attire consisted of an ironed black three piece suit with the tie undone and hanging around his neck. Pamela was unsure why his tie was like that but it did nothing but add to her current annoyance. Why this man felt the need to dress as if he was attending a funeral everyday of his life was beyond Pam, especially since a suit wasn’t a part of the uniform policy (a policy that never seemed to be enforced). Despite that, he looked tidier than Selina did but his eyes possessed the same level of fatigue. “What can I help you with?”

Pamela narrowed her eyes. “Don’t start with your bullshit, Bruce. Why did you reassign me?”

Bruce took a sip of his coffee. “I need more people on the Napier case.”

“I was already on a case.” Pam reminded him. “One that requires special attention.”

Selina scoffed from her place at her desk. “Yeah, because people stealing plants from Walmart is a case that needs “special attention”.”

Pamela’s rounded on the dark-skinned woman, her anger rising. “They’re not just plants! They’re very toxic specimens that need to be properly studied and catalogued! They are highly sensitive and require proper love and care!”

“So...just like plants from Walmart.” Selina repeated, as if she hadn’t heard a thing Pamela just said. 

“They’re not from Walmart!” 

Bruce took another sip of his coffee, a smirk hidden in the mug as he watched the exchange take place. “You’re the most competent member on my team.”

Selina snickered, earning a glare from Pam.

“First off, I know.” Pam said. “Second, you’re the one who assigned me to the toxic specimen case in the first place and now suddenly you want me on a murder case?”

“Hardly suddenly.” Selina added, taking a swig of her coffee(?)

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Pam asked hotly.

“As of right now? Nah.”

“Selina’s right.” Bruce agreed. “It isn’t sudden. It’s something I’ve thought about for a while. We need all the help that we can get. The Napier case is at a standstill. It’s been two months and we still have yet to find hard evidence that will convict him.”

“And that’s my problem how, exactly?” Pam crossed her arms.

“You’re the most competent member on my team, ” Bruce repeated. “We need someone who can find evidence that doesn’t appear to be there. You’re one of the best at it.”

“Try not to inflate her ego too much, Bruce.” Selina butted in again. “Lord knows it can’t get any bigger.”

If looks could kill, Selina would be dust. Before Pam could retort, Bruce continued on.

“It wasn’t your problem at first but now it is.” He was saying. “I already placed the file on your desk. It has everything that you need to know in it.”

“And who’s going to be on the toxic specimen case?”

“That case will be handled by Alec.”

Pam was trying her hardest to keep her anger under control. 

“We need you on this case, Pamela.” Bruce said with certainty. “If anyone has a chance to land that man in jail, it’ll be you.”

“And is there a reason why you can’t handle this case?”

Bruce took another sip of his coffee, eye flitting over to Selina briefly. “No.”

Pam closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, deciding that she’d rather not get involved in whatever it was that him and Selina had going on. Sure, she’s only been on the specimen case for a week but she had already made so much progress that the idea of just handing over her work to someone less qualified pissed her off on an unreachable level. Not that Alec was underqualified, just less so than Pam and she didn’t want anyone taking credit for the work that she had done. Gritting her teeth she opened her eyes and gave Bruce a hard look. 

“Fine.” She stated. “But I want updates with the specimen and if a problem occurs I want to be notified immediately.”

Bruce considered the request. “I’ll be sure to let Alec know to send an email of everything that he discovers. In the meantime, you have a murderer to capture.”

With that, Bruce finished off the rest of his coffee and made his way down a long hallway. Pamela clenched her jaw, made her way to her desk and sat down with a huff. Her eyes scanned her desk. Everything was neat and organized, much easier to find things that way. Right in the middle of her desk was a thick manilla folder, the tab reading ‘Napier’. 

Selina chuckled, taking her feet off the desk and placing them on the floor. “Rough day?” 

Pam bristled. “As if you’re not part of the reason why I’m pissed.”

“Please, Pammy, you can never be pissed with me.”

“I disagree with that statement. What are you doing here?”

Smirking, Selina said, “Just came to see Bruce.”

Yeah, because Selina often showed up to Bruce’s job at seven in the morning just to see him.

“I’m sure you saw him last night if your eyes are anything to go by.” Pam replied, running her fingers over the folder. “Why are you here so early?”

Selina ran a hand through her hair. “So I can fuck him.” She repeated Pam’s words from earlier. With that, she stood and stretched her limbs, making sure to create as much noise as possible while doing so. She then began to crack her knuckles quite loudly, each pop making Pam cringe. The redhead glared at the dark-haired woman, who gave her a mischievous smile before turning and going down the hallway that Bruce had walked down.

Pam rolled her eyes. She didn’t expect Selina to tell her the actual reason why she was at a police station at seven in the morning. Not in public, anway. Pressing her hands into her desk, Pam looked down and gave the manilla folder a look of disgust before opening it up and scanning the contents inside. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Abuse

It was times like this that made Harley wonder where exactly had she messed up in her life.

Okay, well, that wasn’t exactly true. She knew exactly how she ended up where she was; getting kicked out of her home, losing her scholarship, dropping out of school, honestly, take your pick. But that wasn’t what she was talking about. Nah, Harley was referring to how she ended up in this predicament in particular.

Bullets were being riddled into the back of the car, embedding itself into the metal, miraculously missing the tires. A few managed to travel inside the vehicle, barely missing Harley. One managed to whip right past her head, close enough to shear off part of her blue-tipped hair, and blow a hole through the windshield.

“What the hell?!” Harley let out a frustrated yell. “I just dyed this yesterday!”

She glanced at the rearview mirror. Red and blue lights flashed as five or six police cars (she didn’t really have time to count) sped behind her. One of the cars had a speaker and the pig in the passenger seat spoke into it.

“Stop your vehicle!” The voice boomed. “Now!”

Yeah, like that was gonna happen.

The cars that weren’t speaking to her continued to shoot. Harley was sure that there was a law against shooting at a moving vehicle. She was also sure that the crime she committed didn’t warrant five or six pig cruisers (oops, sorry,  _ police  _ cruisers). Okay, she wasn’t too sure about the latter but still! These pigs didn’t need to take pop shots at her! Then again, they were cops. For people who were supposed to be enforcing the law, it seems like they usually were the ones who broke it. It wasn’t like they were role models when it came to following the law. 

Harley quickly glanced in the backseat at the pile of money she managed to steal. She didn’t do anything too crazy, she just robbed a bank. And it wasn’t even a big one! It was rather small, in fact. It was like she had robbed an ATM with how tiny the bank was. 

The robbery had not gone very well. Harley had never robbed a bank before. But she had watched an episode of Spongebob where he had tried to rob a bank so she figured it would be similar to that. Y’know, minus the whole “facing-the-wrong-direction” thing. So she donned a tight pantyhose sock over her head, bag in her hand and walked in with a gun (unloaded because she was going with the scare tactic) and pointed it at the teller, demanding she fills the bag with as much money as she could fit. The teller listened and quickly stuffed stacks of hundreds into the brown bag. However, just as Harley was about to turn around and leave, the alarm went off.

Cursing, Harley sprinted outside. She looked around for a getaway vehicle and fortunately for her there was a man just getting out of his car down the street. She ran towards him, feet hitting the ground hard and with a purpose as if she were preparing to do a roundoff. She rammed the poor guy, knocking him to the ground, took his keys, and sped off in his Nissan.

Anyway, she robbed it and it wasn’t too long before the pigs were breathing down her neck. 

Now, Harley didn’t want to rob the bank, of course. She just needed some money. Okay, that also wasn’t really accurate. She did need money, that part was true, but she hadn’t robbed the bank for herself. She did it for Mistah J.

Who would be  _ very  _ angry with her if she turned up without any green.

Harley sped through the city, running red lights and stop signs, avoided flattening pedestrians in her attempt to lose the heat. It was much harder than she anticipated, the cops were all over the damn place. Briefly, Harley imagined her wanted level. She figured it was at three stars. She wished she could go into a spray shop, change the color of her car, and then roll off like nothing happened. Sadly, this wasn’t Grand Theft Auto, this was real life, and if she died she didn’t get to restart from her last save.

As she zig-zagged around cars, she tried her best to keep from crashing. Kind of difficult since it was barely past noon and everyone decided to take their lunch at the same time. She couldn’t go back to the hideout, couldn’t risk leading the pigs right to Mistah J’s doorstep. So she drove in the opposite direction, hoping she could lose them across the bridge. She made her way towards it, nearly pushing 100 on the speed-o-meter. The cops were still on her ass but not as close and they haven’t made another attempt to speak to her, which was fine. It wasn’t like she was going to listen to them anyway.

She made it to the bridge situated probably about two hundred feet over the water. Maybe not two hundred feet but Harley wasn’t about to take time out of her day to measure it. Nevertheless, she grinned. If she could just make it over to the other side, she was confident that she would definitely lose those assholes behind her.

The road leading up to the bridge was completely covered by trees, brush, and grass in desperate need of cutting. If there were any cops near the bridge, Harley wouldn’t have been able to see them.

She didn’t have time to react before her car rolled over a planted spike strip, blowing two of the tires.

She screamed and she grabbed the wheel, turning it left and right desperately as to regain a crumb of control. She was unsuccessful as her car swerved, crashing through the metal barrier and into the dirty river below.

Harley was thrown against the wheel, the seatbelt nearly cutting into her throat. She gasped and sputtered, trying to catch her breath as the car began to sink. Her eyes widened as grimy water obstructed her view, gushing in from the bullet hole in the glass. She tried to open the door but the car was already too deeply submerged to open, the water pressure keeping her trapped inside. She then went to roll down the windows before stopping. The water was already covering the window. Opening it would just allow more water to come in, sinking the car faster.

Fuck.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Harley turned around in the seat, looking for anything that might help her. As the water pooled around her calves, her eyes landed on the money just sitting there in the back seat, chilling. She glared at it. She could almost hear it taunting her.

_ Haha! You’re about to drown! For what? Over some fucking paper? _

Harley continued on with her search. Water was surging in at an alarming rate, already at her knees, soaking her jeans. She looked around frantically, opening the glove compartment, the armrest console, the visor, under the seats, for anything that could break the windows. She found nothing.

_ Fuck Fuck Fuck!  _

Harley gritted her teeth in frustration and threw her head back against the headrest. She did it with a lot more force than necessary. She rubbed the back of her head and turned to glare at the offending object before it hit her.

_ Ooooohhhhhhh! _

Harley grabbed the sides of the headrest and pulled it up to the highest position. She tried to pull the headrest off but the thing wouldn’t budge. She shook the headrest as if she was choking it. 

The water was at her waist. 

She closely examined the metal legs that were connected to the headrest and stuck in the seat. She noticed two buttons jutting out from the sides. Pressing the button, Harley gave the headrest one last tug before it came off with a click. 

The water was up to her chest now, wet bills floating around her, taunting her again.

_ You finna drown, baby! _

Turning to the window, Harley readied the metal legs of the headrest and, using as much strength she could muster, brought it down on the window. The headrest bounced back with such force that it sent vibrations up Harley’s arms. She hit the window again. The same results. She hit it again and again and again, the water rising to her shoulders.

_ Goddamn fucking shitty pisscake of a window! _

Harley continued to attack the window. It cracked. She kept hitting, water rising to her mouth. Harley took a deep breath and ducked under the water. She kept hitting, more and more, using all of her strength. The window cracked further and then gave way. Harley pushed herself through the opening and swam for the surface. 

She gasped as her head broke the surface, her lung taking in as much air as they could (never again will she take oxygen for granted). She wiped her hair from her eyes as she coughed and gagged. Then she went to clear water from her eyes when a gunshot grazed her shoulder.

Grabbing her shoulder in pain, Harley looked up at the bridge. The pigs were still there, ten or twelve of them (Harley REALLY didn’t have time to count). All of their guns were trained on her.

_ Are you fucking kidding me?! _

Harley didn’t waste any time taking in another deep breath and dived back under the water. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder she swam through the murky water as bullets riddled past her body. She swam as fast as she could, not caring about where she was going or how far. She swam until the bullets stopped but that didn’t mean Harley was going to. She kept going until her lungs felt as if they were going to explode. She broke the surface, her face nearly turning blue.

Clearing her eyes, she looked around. The police were gone. Fucking finally. She swam towards the edge of the river bank and pulled herself up, clothes clinging to her body, hair matted on her forehead. She crawled away from the river, shoulder still hurting, collapsed on the ground and stared up at the clouds as she tried to slow down her heart rate. The sun beamed down on her, warming Harley’s skin. After a few minutes, she allowed her eyelids to slide shut.

Mistah J was not going to be happy about this.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You want to know what’s worse than walking around in wet socks?

Wet underwear.

Unfortunately for Harley, she was cursed with both.

As she made her way back to the hideout, her shoes made a squishing noise that was sincerely starting to annoy her. She dragged her feet for about ten seconds before realizing that these were the only pair of shoes she had so she couldn’t really afford to ruin them more than they already were. Sure, she could steal another pair but she really didn’t want to if she could avoid it. Besides, she didn’t need more attention. What she really needed to do was lay low for a while.

Her ass, though, was starting to itch.

Her shoulder wasn’t in so much pain now, just throbbing. Considering that the water she dragged herself through definitely wasn’t too clean she was sure that her wound was probably infected. She could take care of it, easy. If Mistah J had left some Vodka laying around.

Speaking of Mistah J, Harley thought of ways to explain to him why she came back with no money.

_ “There were alarms! I hadta get outta there quick!” _

_ “I was leadin’ them away from here! I couldn’t let them find the hideout!” _

_ “The pigs used spikes! Forced me off the road! I woulda drown if I tried to get the money!” _

Sadly, when she got back to the hideout, he didn’t seem to want to hear any of the excuses. 

Harley curled into a ball on the floor, arms over her head, as Mistah J stomped on her, kicking her in the stomach, legs, her injured shoulder, anywhere where his foot could connect. It felt like hours before he finally forced himself to stop. He looked down at her, sneered, and then walked out of the hideout, making sure to slam the door shut behind him.

Harley whimpered as she remained curled on the floor, not moving a single muscle. Tears fell from her eyes, across her temple, and onto the floor. She shook. This wasn’t the first time this had happened and Harley was sure that it wouldn’t be the last.

_ It could be. You could always leave him. _

No. She couldn’t. She owed him and if Harley was anything, she was loyal. Especially to someone who saved her life. She needed him, she did.

If only she could get herself to believe that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just bear with me. Holla at me on my Tumblr with the same name

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what y'all think


End file.
